


Devil's Garden

by Landi_Elliot



Series: October Tales [4]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Asexuality, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Food, Humor, M/M, Masturbation, References to Thomas Aquinas, Seven Deadly Sins, Sex Toys, Theology, Unresolved Sexual Tension, but in a way it is resolved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-15
Updated: 2019-11-15
Packaged: 2021-01-31 03:54:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21439798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Landi_Elliot/pseuds/Landi_Elliot
Summary: Three friends have challenged one another to write a Good Omens fic each before October is over. The first of them is Joseph who became “Captain Dragon” in the escape room based on Good Omens (see Part 2 of the October Tales series). He later adds “Scaramouche” to his moniker because when you impress God with your fandango you are bound to flaunt it. Joseph identifies as asexual and this is what he intends to put into his story.In this story Crowley gets very irritated with Aziraphale and decides to teach him a lesson. And a lesson is most certainly taught.This is part of the October Tales series but it can be read on its own.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: October Tales [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1544227
Comments: 4
Kudos: 11





	Devil's Garden

**Posted by Captain Dragon Scaramouche on October 16**

Aziraphale irritated Crowley in many different ways.

Forget about “tickety-boos” or tartan – Crowley was past those. Forget about those layers of clothes – it was layers of _smugness_ that got to him. Unbearable pedantic smugness and complacency. Crowley sometimes wanted to reach out and tear these layers apart and shake the angel out of them. But they _were_ the angel, the essential part of him. It only made matters worse.

That patronising tone of his, for example, especially when the angel was explaining something about the nature of Good and Evil. Like “the propensity of evil to carry the seeds of its own destruction” and other things that were apparently too hard for a demon to grasp “on the account of their ineffability”. The bloody I-word – it set Crowley’s teeth on edge. _Angelsplaining_ – that was the name for it. Thanks be to Hell, there was much less of it after the Averted Apocalypse.

But still. Time and again there were conversations during which Aziraphale embarked on the angelsplaining mission, usually in a café or a restaurant:

“Right, a fun fact for you,” said Crowley cheerfully, as Aziraphale was polishing off a dish of Eton mess. “Gluttony is one of seven deadly sins. Fancy that!”

“Ah!” Aziraphale replied calmly, dabbing his mouth with a serviette. “You are insinuating that I am committing the sin of gluttony. It is an easy mistake to make, dear.”

Crowley started fuming slowly, but Aziraphale went on, oblivious.

“What you have to understand is that there is nothing sinful in the enjoyment of food as such. One should embrace joyful participation in God-given pleasures and Her bountiful gifts.”

“Eton mess being one of them?”

“Most certainly,” Aziraphale went on, failing or refusing to notice Crowley’s sarcasm. Nothing new there. “Gluttony, on the other hand, presupposes a certain degree of abuse, when it comes to those gifts, in terms of quantity or quality. In fact, St. Thomas Aquinas described five ways in which they can be abused, namely, _Nimis_, _Laute_…”

“If you are going to quote Thomas Aquinas at me,” Crowley hissed menacingly, “I’ll make such a mess out of your dessert that you’ll wince every time you say _Eton_.”

“Oh Crowley,” Aziraphale beamed at him, mouthing a spoonful, “I do find your turn of phrase most invigorating. But no more Thomas Aquinas, if that is your wish. Let me just conclude by saying that I am consuming this with the deepest respect to God’s gifts and in a state of grace. As I always do.”

Yes, Aziraphale was a true master when it came to irritating Crowley. And many more instances could be drawn out of their daily meetings and conversations, but why don’t we get straight to the point. The thing that irritated Crowley most of all was the fact that Aziraphale didn’t exhibit any signs of infatuation with Crowley. Not a hint of suppressed sexual longings. None whatsoever.

This was totally beyond Crowley. Not that he desperately craved to have sex with the angel, not at all. But his heart did start beating faster when Aziraphale performed his beaming and coy smiles. There were occasional hard-ons when the angel got close or touched his hand. And there were fantasies. Oh yes, Crowley had a lot of fantasies. These were mostly the fantasies of Aziraphale unable to suppress his feelings any longer, of Aziraphale confessing his ardent love, of Aziraphale begging Crowley to kiss him, of Aziraphale on his knees sobbing about 6,000 years of secret yearnings… Well, you get the idea.

Crowley explained away Aziraphale's total failure to act on Crowley’s fantasies by the fears and insecurities they had both had before the Averted Apocalypse. But that was more than a year ago now! What in heaven could be stopping the stupid angel now? Crowley was beginning to think the unthinkable – that Aziraphale didn’t actually _have_ any secret yearnings. Perhaps he was just as immune to the deadly sin of lust, as he was (according to himself) to the sin of gluttony. Crowley vaguely wondered if he had Thomas Aquinas to blame for it.

No! No no no. Impossible! Inconceivable. To have Crowley in front of him, the glorious, irresistible, smashing Crowley, and not to be _lustful_? No. Crowley refused to believe this.

He did try to advance things a bit. He tried several temptation schemes, including going on that bloody picnic a month ago. A soft September day, a light breeze with the scent of sea air, a fallen leaf entangled in Crowley’s hair… He went as far as stretching across the tartan rug Aziraphale had brought along, closing his eyes and putting on a dreamy smile. He was expecting a touch, a kiss, a whisper, a stifled sigh… “Oh Crowley, I can’t take it any longer” or “Darling, you are the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen” or…well, one of those things. What he actually got was “Crowley, dear, I can’t reach the cucumber sandwiches. Could you move a bit?” What was wrong with him?!

Crowley got so fed up by all this by the end of September that in his fantasies Aziraphale had to do a considerably larger amount of begging before the demon relented and let the angel unleash his suppressed passion. Aziraphale was usually very passionate in Crowley’s fantasies and not even once mentioned Thomas Aquinas. By the beginning of October, when the real Aziraphale obstinately persisted in NOT showing any signs of sexual frustration, Crowley had an idea. Really, the angel had it coming.

Crowley was driven by anger and demonic inspiration, and he worked hard. Multiple phone calls and Internet orders, several unavoidable meetings, a few bribes, a small, but effective ancient sigil – and in a fortnight a new shop was ready to be opened in Soho. Just a 5 minutes’ walk from Aziraphale’s bookshop. Crowley couldn’t wait to see Aziraphale’s face when he saw it.

*

The big day came at last. It started with a phone call.

“Hello, angel. Just a quick call to tell you I won’t be dropping by today.”

“Oh? Is everything all right, dear?”

Did Crowley hear disappointment in Aziraphale’s voice? The pain of not seeing Crowley for a day? Or was it his usual genuine condescending concern?

“Everything’s fine. Great, actually. In fact, I am opening a new shop in Soho today.”

Silence. Crowley bit into it with his hungry teeth and decided it was a promising kind of silence.

“How wonderful!” Aziraphale said at last. “Congratulations! What will you be selling?”

“A surprise.” Crowley said with a smirk. He made it sound as husky as he could. “You can come over and check it out. It’s quite close to yours.”

“I’d be delighted! I’ll see if I can sneak out for a little while in the afternoon.”

A little while, ha. Don’t count on it, angel.

“What’s the address?”

“Just take the left as you cross the street from your shop, and then the left once more – you can’t miss it. The name will speak for itself.”

“An adventure!” Aziraphale exclaimed. “Jolly good, Crowley, I’ll find your shop.”

You do that, Aziraphale. It will be an adventure to remember.

As the morning hours dragged on, Crowley had quite a number of customers, some of who were secretly eyeing him with admiration or openly flirting. Crowley basked in the ambience of his own sexual vibes. Irresistible, that was what he was. And he couldn’t wait for Aziraphale to show up and drink it all in.

On second thoughts, no, better not to have any flirtatious customers when the angel arrived. No customers at all, flirtatious or otherwise. Yes, that was the best plan. Crowley had to perform a quick tracing miracle – just in time. Aziraphale had already left his shop and was on his way. Crowley announced that the shop was closing for the lunch break and banished the customers. Some of them went away quite unwillingly. Crowley waited impatiently for the last one to get out and then he went out himself, locked the door and crossed the street to a café on the other side.

Aziraphale materialised in the street several minutes later. Crowley felt a jolt of anticipation and inescapable irritation. The angel was not at all in a hurry. He was looking around, studying the signs and smiling happily to passers-by. He threw some breadcrumbs to a pigeon and he tousled a little boy’s hair. The boy’s mother didn’t jerk the child away or react with aggression as she certainly would have done to any other kind of stranger, touching her child like that. Instead she smiled languidly and exchanged some small talk. Then Aziraphale picked up a maple leaf and stared at it for a while in a kind of trance. Crowley rolled his eyes.

Finally, Aziraphale stopped in front of Crowley’s shop and gave it a thorough examination. He took in the shop windows, the locked door with the CLOSED sign, the two words in stylised gothic font on the board above it. Crowley was particularly proud of the name he gave to his shop. Unable to stay away any longer, he got up and sauntered towards Aziraphale.

“See something you like?” he said as Aziraphale turned around to face him.

“Ah, Crowley. Delighted to see you,” the angel replied, showing in every crease around his eyes that he was indeed delighted. Crowley felt momentarily uncertain about the whole thing. But then, what the heaven…

“_Devil’s Garden_ – well, quite appropriate,” Aziraphale said with a smile. “But I am still in the dark as to what you’re selling here, dear. Garden… oh I know, _plants_!”

There was a spectacular artificial apple-tree in the shop window, with glossy read apples glaring out of it. There were also a couple of real plants, Crowley had to admit. He needed to do some therapeutic plant-yelling if he were to spend long hours in the shop. He unlocked the door and swung it open for Aziraphale.

“Why don’t you come in and have a closer look at my… plants?”

And they both came in. Crowley surreptitiously locked the door behind them leaving the CLOSED sign where it was. He took his glasses off and peered at the angel. Any moment now.

“How delight… Oh.” Aziraphale said. “Oh… _oh_! So… _that _kind of shop.”

That was bit of an anti-climax, Crowley thought, usual irritation setting in. Three Oh’s in a row, granted, but not a blush, not a furtive look at Crowley, not a single betrayal of deep inner turmoil. Imperturbable, complacent, stupid angel. Rrrright… Crowley sat on a counter spreading his legs wide and making a proprietorial gesture.

“Feel free to explore, angel. You can have anything that takes you fancy. On the house.”

“I’ve never actually been in a sex shop before,” Aziraphale said in a tone of someone saying they had never been to an archaeological site or a Turkish hammam. “Mind if I look around?”

“As I said, be my guest.”

Aziraphale started looking at the merchandise with genuine curiosity.

“And these are…?”

“Vibrators.”

“So colourful and… and… versatile.”

“People seem to enjoy versatility, angel.”

“I suppose it keeps their minds sharp.”

“Yep, that’s what vibrators are for, keeping their minds sharp,” Crowley smirked and then almost fell of the counter as Aziraphale pulled one out of its box and ran his fingers along it sleek pink surface.

“What is this one made of?”

“Gnk… Je… Jelly.”

“There seems to be a… a rabbit on it,” Aziraphale glanced at Crowley who desperately fought to restore his own imperturbability, as the angel’s sensitive fingers were stroking the pink glittering dildo. “Oh, you must be thinking me terribly silly, my dear. Do forgive my ignorance. It’s rather nice to touch, this jelly thing.”

“Yesss,” Crowley hissed through his teeth and then managed to take control. “Glitter Jelly Dual Power Vibrator. The rabbit is for the clitoris stimulation.”

“Oh! That is _ingenuous_. Ah, a lot of them have these rabbits on. Splendid!”

He put the vibrator down and Crowley exhaled. This was _not_ going according to plan. Aziraphale kept exploring.

“Why do these have all these belts and cords attached to them?”

“Strap-ons,” Crowley said, almost calmly. “Really, angel, you know nothing.”

“Why would I be knowledgeable in this, dear?” Aziraphale said raising his eyebrows.

“To thwart wiles, perhaps?” Crowley said desperately. “I mean you need to know what you’re thwarting.”

“But it’s just like food, dear. No harm in enjoying God’s gifts, as long as you don’t abuse them. No harm whatsoever for humans to enjoy their sexual experiences.”

“Yes, I remember, keeps their minds sharp,” Crowley snapped. There was something _very_ wrong about the whole thing. “I’ll rename the shop “God’s Gifts” then, shall I?”

“Please, don’t! I like _Devil’s Garden_!” Aziraphale exclaimed and returned his gaze to the merchandise. “So, these strap-ons. They are for attaching these lovely artificial penises in case you don’t have one yourself?”

“Spot on, angel. I see your mind doesn’t need sharpening.”

The angel beamed. Actually _beamed_. Crowley felt a mixture of disbelief and wrath. He wondered if the deadly sin of wrath was also quite fine as long as you enjoyed it as a God’s gift.

“Do you mind if I attempt guessing what is each object for and you tell me if I got it right? That should be fun!”

Fun, rrright. Crowley nodded not trusting himself to speak.

“So… let’s see. This… vibrator seems to be double-ended. Hmm… Is it for two individuals who do not possess penises to pleasure themselves simultaneously?”

“Spot on again. One addition, though. Individuals with penises also have orifices – you seem to be forgetting those.”

“Of course!” Aziraphale hit his forehead with his hand. “Silly me!”

Silly me, thought Crowley inwardly cursing himself. The sight of Aziraphale talking about penises and actually touching them was too much. Crowley had been aroused for a while and there was no way to get out of it with dignity. The torture to which the angel unknowingly submitted him went on. He definitely enjoyed this guessing game.

“And these rings are meant to…”

“I knew it!”

“The beads, perhaps,…”

“Oh, I see…”

“The whip is not very hard to figure out…”

“Obviously…”

“Candy underwear set… Hmm… must be delicious…”

“All these ropes, I suppose, are…”

“Really? I’d never have guessed.”

“And these devices…”

“Oh, how amazing! Can I press this button? Look at _that_!”

“Come again? It works over the Internet?”

“Unbelievable!”

Then, suddenly tears.

Crowley who could hardly stand or sit any longer and had stopped breathing a while ago because it was only complicating things slowly realised that the angel was not guessing any more. He was crying softly.

Was it… the moment he had been waiting for? Was it the _moment of truth_? Of admitting that the angel had secret cravings after all? And couldn’t hide them any longer? About time, because Crowley definitely couldn’t. He moved a bit closer.

“Is everything all right, angel?”

“Oh Crowley… It suddenly hit me. Poor people. How hard it must be for them.”

Poor… _people_? What? _What?!_

“I mean… they have all these desires of flesh, all these yearnings – and yet their bodies are not fully equipped to accommodate them. It’s only _now_ and thanks to the shops like this one that they have these possibilities… But previously… what were poor sufferers supposed to _do_ to find release?”

To find release… poor sufferers, indeed… Crowley thought in horror that Aziraphale might be doing this to him on purpose. Thwarting his wiles. No! _No_…

“Dildos have been around for centuries, angel,” he managed, still not trusting himself to breathe. “Really, what did they teach you in that discreet gentlemen’s club in Portland Place?”

“The gavotte, of course.”

“Of course.”

“Why would I need anything else there? Anyway… just think of it, Crowley. If you and I, for instance, have sexual desires, we could easily transform our bodies to provide all necessary anatomical accessories. Poor people, on the other hand, are stuck with what they are given.”

Crowley thought he would discorporate. He actually wished he could. That would be the easy way out.

“And if we, say, were far away from each other, and desperately needed sexual intercourse, we could swiftly travel through telephone lines, though I personally find it undignified, but that is not the point. The point is we wouldn’t need these… _teledildonics_ and mutual pleasuring via the Internet. Would we? How unfair to humans…”

How unfair to _me_… how ironic and stupid, Crowley thought and then his mind shut down and he sank to the floor with a groan.

“Crowley! Are you all right?!”

The angel was next to him on the floor in an instant. Concerned, worried, pale.

“Stay… away… from me…”

“Crowley dear, what _is_ it? How can I help?”

Crowley raised his yellow eyes and met the angel’s blue. Aziraphale’s mind was indeed sharp. He understood.

“Oh dear, I am so _so_ sorry… I didn’t realise… But surely…there must be something in your shop to give you eh… relief?”

“Don’t think I have any inflatable angels in stock. I definitely have to order some, though,” it felt a bit better after that. But only just. At least he said it.

“Oh…”

And then the stupid angel did it. That _was_ the moment of truth. The angel offered himself to Crowley. Just like that.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale said solemnly. “I can’t bear to see you suffer. And it’s entirely my fault. It’s only fair if I… I mean. Please do whatever you want to do. With me. Whatever will make you feel better.”

Crowley laughed. His irritation, his wrath, his frustration, his longings, not so secret anymore, all went into that properly demonic, sensual, hysterical laughter. It was a good one.

It didn’t help though. The beast inside him wanted to get out and take up the angel on his offer. It was only fair, right? He had it coming, didn’t he? Only fair, only bloody fair…

Except that it wasn’t. That would be _rape_. He saw it now – the moment they looked into each other’s eyes and Aziraphale _knew_ about his lust – Crowley knew about the _absence_ of it in the angel. He was innocently, shockingly, infuriatingly devoid of any sexual desires. To take advantage of his kindness would mean rape.

Rape the stupid angel then! Only fair, the beast raged inside. Rape him! Preferably with the glittering pink dildo that he so enjoyed touching…

No.

There will be no rape. Aziraphale is God’s Gift and Crowley won’t abuse it. Ever.

“Get out of here, angel. Quickly. I’ll deal with my suffering on my own.”

“Crowley…”

“NOW!”

“Darling…”

“Unless you prefer to stay and watch, of course.”

Tears were streaming down the angel’s cheeks as he reluctantly got up from the floor where he had been sitting next to the agonising demon. Crowley saw the whole ocean of compassion, spilling out. And there was also _relief_.

“OUT!”

And the angel was gone, miracling the door open and locked again.

Now… where were we, thought Crowley, as he unzipped his jeans.

*

The day ended with a phone call just as it had started with one.

Crowley, who was lying sleepless on his bed, listening to the prattle of the rain outside, considered not answering it. Then he sighed and swiped the screen.

“What do you want?” he growled.

“I am so worried, Crowley. Are you all right?”

“What are you talking about? What’s so worrying about a hard-on? I dealt with it.”

“Well, that is good. But I was more worried about… that you…”

“That I wouldn’t want to talk to you anymore? Is that it?”

“Yes. Can you forgive me? I honestly didn’t…”

“I am talking to you now, aren’t I?”

“I see.”

The rain outside was turning into a downpour.

“And I’m not angry anymore…” Crowley went on. “After what I did to you. In my head.”

“I’d better not ask, I suppose.”

“Don’t. But I’ll tell you anyway. While I was wanking I was imagining you doing all those things you were babbling on about. You ended up having sex with God via teledildonics. That was _really_ good and when I came, I spluttered the wall with my spunk. Then I imagined you putting your stupid finger in it and writing “I love you Crowley”. Not a finger actually, but…”

“Crowley… that is enough.”

“Sorry, angel. Got carried away.”

“It’s all right dear. And… I do love you.”

“Yeah, right.”

That stupid downpour when what you need is silence.

“I do. But…”

“But you don’t have sexual desires.”

“No, I don’t. So sorry, dear.”

“Well… it’s not a problem, actually.”

And it suddenly wasn’t. It was a relief to know. Crowley could feel his tension and anger evaporate slowly, blending in with the rain and pouring out.

“We can still be friends?’

“Yes, Aziraphale.”

“And see each other as often as we did?”

“Yes.”

“Wouldn’t it be…”

“…too hard for me to bear? No, I’m used to it. Let’s assume I’ve had my little crisis and it’s all right now.”

“You can’t possibly imagine how relieved I am, Crowley. I was so worried I wouldn’t see you again. I wouldn’t be able to cope with that.”

“Nope, you’re stuck with me, angel. But be aware that from time to time I’ll be imagining you doing things…”

“As long as it keeps you happy, dear.”

There was a long pause. Soft, enveloping, rain filled. Then Crowley said:

“You know what would be helpful, once in a while?”

“What, dear?”

“A hug? Do you, asexual angels, do hugs?”

“I’d love to give you one. If it doesn’t…”

“No it won’t send me into a sex-crazed fit – stop assuming I am a maniac or something!”

“I know you’re not, I’m still overcome with guilt, you see.”

“Cut it out.”

“So… a hug then?”

“Yep… tomorrow your place?”

“I was thinking more of… now? Could you put your phone somewhere safe please?”

“Aziraphale, you _hate _traveling via sound waves!”

“Just tell me when I can go.”

“Right. In five seconds, angel.”

Crowley put his phone on the floor in the middle of the room and stepped away. Several seconds later Aziraphale slipped out of it, panting. Then he looked around a bit awkwardly – Crowley realised he hadn’t bothered to turn the lights on. Before Aziraphale had time to get accustomed to the darkness, he was breathing into his ear.

“Here I am, angel. Have you brought me that thing you promised?”

“Yes, dear. Here it is.”

Aziraphale put his arms around him, inundating the demon with the smell of cologne and of something creamy. And then came the warmth, pure and simple, unconditional and overpowering. He felt the remnants of his tension, wrath and irritation melting away, disintegrating and leaving only a slight itch behind. He realised he was dangerously close to actually thanking God for her gifts.

But no, he knew _what_ he was and what was fair. So he drew away from Aziraphale and said, wrinkling his nose.

“That cologne, what’s it called?”

“_Pleasures_,” Aziraphale said a bit haltingly.

“Are you bloody kidding me?”

“No. I just like the smell. Why are you asking, anyway?”

“Why do you think? I’m going to sprinkle my inflatable angels with it, you little cock-teaser.”

Because, when you’re a proud owner of a sex shop called _Devils’ Garden_, whatever stupid thing you do, for example, loving a totally asexual angel, you do it with style.

**Comments under the post**

**Sergeant Tattoo**: Amazing, Josh! I’m going to check out some of those God’s Gifts.

**Sergeant Angel Cake**: Wow, that was quick! I’ve barely started mine. Anyway, I loved it, Captain. Poor Crowley, though! Sergeant Tattoo, it falls to us to make it up to him!

**Sergeant Tattoo**: Will do.

**As_Era_Failed**: Asexual is the new sexy.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Devil's Garden (illustration)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22239484) by [Landi_Elliot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Landi_Elliot/pseuds/Landi_Elliot)


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